The Hope Jar Page 11

“In addition to driving for some of the Amish in the area, I’m also available to do odd jobs,” Brad explained. “I’m open to do just about anything during the summer months, but in the fall I will go to a university in Clarks Summit, Pennsylvania, to earn my master of divinity degree. It’s just north of Scranton—about 146 miles from here.” He pointed upward. “I’m following a call God placed on my life when I was a teenager.”

  Michelle couldn’t imagine anyone being so devoted to God that they’d want to become a minister, much less spend all that money on college. But then Willis was a minister in his Amish church, and he seemed like a pretty normal man. And from what Mary Ruth had told her, Willis didn’t attend college or even take a home-study course to achieve that position. He’d acquired the unpaid job during the drawing of lots. She’d explained that only married men who were members of the local Amish church were eligible for a ministerial position.

  The ordination was usually held at the end of a communion service. Men and women who were church members would go to a designated room in the house and whisper the name of a candidate to a deacon, who would then pass the name on to the church bishop. The names of those men who’d received three or more votes were placed in the lot. Those in the lot were asked if they were in harmony with the ordinances of the church and articles of faith. If they answered affirmatively, they were to kneel in prayer, asking God to show which man He had chosen.

  Next, a slip of paper with a Bible verse on it would be placed in a songbook, randomly arranged with other songbooks, the same number as equal to the candidates considered. Seated around the table, the men who were candidates were supposed to select a songbook. When they opened the books, the lot fell on the man who had the slip of paper with the Bible verse inside.

  Mary Ruth also mentioned that the term of office for a minister was usually for life. She had told Michelle that each Amish church district had a bishop, two ministers, and one deacon, who were called from within the congregation via the drawing of lots.

  “Well, I need to get going. There’s someone else I need to pick up.” Brad broke into Michelle’s thoughts when he spoke and handed her a card. “Here’s my number. Feel free to give me a call whenever you need a ride.”

  “Thanks, I will.” She grabbed another grocery bag from the back of the van and followed Mary Ruth, Willis, and Ezekiel to the house. Maybe when it was time to leave the Lapps’ house for good, she would call on Brad for a ride to the bus station.

  As Brad pulled his van out of the Lapps’ driveway, he thought about his meeting with their granddaughter. He was surprised Sara wasn’t wearing Amish clothes. Could she or her parents have been Amish at one time and left the faith? Brad wasn’t an expert on the Amish way of life, but he’d heard from Stan that some Amish young people chose the English way of life rather than joining the Amish church. Maybe that was the case with Sara.

  When a groundhog ran across the road in front of him, Brad slammed on the brakes. Some people might not have cared that it was only a groundhog, but Brad wasn’t one of them, even if he didn’t have a fondness for this type of animal. No matter what, they were all God’s creatures, and he wasn’t about to hit one on purpose.

  “I need to keep my attention on my driving,” Brad scolded himself as he sat back, letting the car idle. He removed a small notepad from his shirt pocket to look at the address again where he needed to pick up a young Amish mother who was taking her baby to a doctor’s appointment. “There should be crossroads right up ahead, and then I need to turn left.”

  Looking into the rearview mirror, he saw a vehicle slowly coming up behind him. “Guess I better get moving.” Putting pressure on the gas pedal, Brad glanced over into the field and saw the groundhog, standing on its hind legs. Shaking his finger in the critter’s direction, he rolled down the window and hollered, “Good thing I saw you.” Grinning at his reflection in the side mirror, Brad mumbled, “at least my eyesight didn’t let me down.”

  Farther up the road, he saw the crossroad where he needed to turn. Approaching it, Brad put his signal on and turned left. The farm was only a few miles down the road.

  Once more, the Lapps’ granddaughter came to mind. I wonder how long she’ll be staying with the Lapps.

  Brad hoped Sara would call on him for a ride sometime. It would give him a chance to get to know her and ask a few questions. Sara was a beautiful young woman, but during their brief meeting, he had sensed something might be troubling her.

  Brad had the gift of discernment, and his intuitions about people were usually correct. His mother often said he would make a good minister because he understood people and could almost see into the windows of their souls. Brad saw his intuitions as a gift from God—one that would help him counsel and minister to people.

  “Thank you for helping me put the groceries away.” Mary Ruth smiled as she and Sara put the canned goods on a shelf in the pantry.

  Sara nodded. “No problem. I’m happy to do it.”

  “Brad seems like a nice young man, don’t you think?”

  “I guess so.” Sara reached for a can of black olives and placed it on the shelf. “I didn’t really talk to him long enough to form an opinion.”

  “Stan knows Brad’s dad, and he gave him a good recommendation. He said Brad is dependable and a hard worker.”

  “I see.”

  “So we’ll probably be calling on him for help with several things here at the farm this summer.”

  Sara grabbed a few more items and placed them on the shelf. “I hope he works out well for you.”

  It was probably wrong to be thinking such things, but Mary Ruth hoped if Sara and Brad got along well, it might give her a reason to stay. Not that spending time with her grandparents wasn’t reason enough. But it would be good for Sara to spend time with a young person who had dedicated his life to serving God. While it was nice to see Sara and Ezekiel getting along well, Mary Ruth hoped he and her other granddaughter might get together. Of course, Lenore had become a church member and was settled into the Amish ways, but Ezekiel hadn’t yet joined and seemed a bit unsettled. It was a concern to his parents and everyone else in their community.

  Mary Ruth’s brows furrowed. I shouldn’t even be thinking about any of this. It’s none of my business who Sara, Lenore, or even Ezekiel ends up with. I just want the best for both of my granddaughters.

  “Did you and Grandpa stop by somewhere for lunch?” Sara’s question pulled Mary Ruth out of her musings.

  “Yes. We ate at the Bird-in-Hand Family Restaurant. How about you? Did you fix some lunch?”

  “Not unless you count chewing a piece of gum.”

  Mary Ruth’s brows furrowed. “How come you didn’t eat the leftover chicken I told you was in the refrigerator?”

  Sara shrugged. “I wasn’t really hungry. It wasn’t the first time I’ve gone without eating a meal.”

  Mary Ruth wondered what her granddaughter meant by that. Surely when she was a child Rhoda would have fed her regularly. She was about to ask when Willis sauntered into the kitchen.

  “Looks like you two have all the groceries put away.” He glanced at the fully stocked pantry. “I was plannin’ to help with that, but after Ezekiel helped bring in the sacks, the two of us got to talkin’ and time got away from me.”

  “It’s not a problem. Our granddaughter was a big help.” Mary Ruth gave Sara’s shoulder a squeeze. “Makes me wonder how we got along without her.”

  “Thanks, I just like to help out.” Sara dropped her gaze to the floor. “I appreciate being here, more than you know.”

  Mary Ruth looked over at Willis and noticed his wide grin. She felt sure he was equally happy to have Sara staying with them.

  As Michelle lay in bed that night, she reflected on the jars she had found in the barn that afternoon. While she and Mary Ruth put the groceries away today, she’d been on the verge of asking her about those jars—especially the blue one full of folded papers. Michelle’s curiosity had been piqued when she found the jar, and
even more so after she’d read the two prayers. Would writing a prayer down on paper and then putting it in a jar, be better than saying a prayer out loud? Of course, from what she’d observed so far from living here, the Amish only prayed silently. But they might be inclined to write a prayer down if there was some special meaning behind it or they didn’t want anyone else to know their thoughts.

  Pushing her head deeper into the pillow, Michelle closed her eyes. The sound of crickets chirping through her open window each night was soothing. Think I’ll have another look at that blue jar the next time I’m alone in the barn. Maybe I’ll find a clue as to who wrote those prayers.

  Chapter 13

  When Michelle finished breakfast and looked at the simple calendar on the kitchen wall, she was reminded that it was the last Friday in June. It didn’t seem possible she’d been with Mary Ruth and Willis close to a month already.

  Since coming here, Michelle had established a normal routine, and one of the first things she did every day after breakfast was get the mail. Fortunately, her pretend grandparents were okay with it, and even said they appreciated her willingness to help with so many things.

  If they only knew why I offered to get the mail, they might not be so appreciative, Michelle thought as she stepped out the back door.

  It was another warm day, already high with humidity. Michelle could only imagine how oppressive it would be by the end of the day. She hoped to get all her chores done before it got too hot, and then maybe she could go for a walk over to the nearby pond. It would feel mighty good to take off her shoes and wade in the shallow part of the cool, inviting water.

  Michelle approached the mailbox and pulled down on the handle to open the flap. There were only two envelopes inside. She reached in to retrieve them, but as she was shutting the metal flap, both letters slipped from her hand.

  “Oh great.” She picked up the first one, but as a gust of wind came along, it carried the second letter out of reach.

  As Michelle ran to retrieve it, the wind had its way with her again. To make matters worse, Sadie, who had followed her down the driveway, dropped the stick in her mouth and ran after the envelope like it was a game. Before Michelle could reach the letter, the dog snatched it and ran around Michelle in circles.

  Michelle groaned. “Come on now. This is ridiculous. Sit, Sadie! Sit!”

  To her surprise, the collie stopped running and dropped the envelope at Michelle’s feet. “Whew!” Michelle leaned down, and gasped when she picked it up. Even though the envelope was soiled, there was no mistaking the return address. The letter was from Sara Murray.

  She jammed it in her jean’s pocket, then hurried up to the house. First stop was the kitchen, which she was relieved to see was empty. Mary Ruth was probably in the basement doing laundry.

  Michelle dropped the other letter on the kitchen table and ran up the stairs to her room. After rolling her shoulders to get the kinks out, she flopped on the bed and tore the letter open.

  Dear Grandma and Grandpa,

  I am concerned because I still haven’t heard from you in response to my first two letters. I would still like to come see you when my business class is done. Since neither of my letters were returned to me, I have to assume you received them. Please write soon. I am eager to hear from you.

  Your granddaughter,

  Sara

  Maybe I should write her a letter, pretending to be Mary Ruth. If I can get Sara to give up on the idea of coming here, or at least postpone it for as long as possible, I can relax and enjoy my time in Strasburg.

  Michelle took some paper and a pen from her nightstand and wrote Sara a letter, signing it, “Mary Ruth.” The message stated that they had received her letters, but since summer was a busy time for them, they would prefer she wait until sometime in October to come for a visit.

  It was devious, but Michelle had too much at stake to let Mary Ruth and Willis see Sara’s letter, which of course would let them know Michelle was not who she’d been pretending to be. With barely a thought concerning her actions, she ripped up Sara’s letter, and took the evidence outside to the burn barrel.

  Once all traces of the evidence was gone, Michelle started back toward the house. Halfway there, she noticed Willis’s horse and buggy at the hitching rail. She wasn’t sure if he’d gotten back from someplace or was preparing to leave.

  Michelle moved over to the rail and reached out to touch Bashful’s long neck. The mare seemed gentle enough, nuzzling Michelle’s hand, while slowly shaking her head.

  “I wonder what it’d be like to drive a horse and buggy,” she murmured, continuing to stroke the horse. “If Lenore can do it, why can’t I?”

  “Would ya like to find out?”

  Michelle jumped at the sound of Willis’s voice. She whirled around, surprised to see him standing a few feet away. “Oh, I didn’t know you were there.”

  “That’s ’cause I was in the barn.” He grinned. “Just came out and saw you over here petting my horse.”

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Nope. Just got back. Went over to talk with our bishop about a person in our community who told a lie that could hurt someone.”

  Michelle’s heart pounded as her breathing accelerated. Is it me? Have they figured out that I’m an imposter?

  His posture relaxed. “It’s okay now though. The person in question admitted what they did was wrong and apologized to the one they had lied about.”

  Michelle sagged against the horse’s flanks with relief. Quickly changing the subject, she gestured to Bashful. “She seems pretty gentle.”

  “Wanna try driving her?”

  “You mean now?”

  He bobbed his head. “Now’s as good a time as any, don’t ya think?”

  “I guess so.” Michelle’s palms grew sweaty. She hadn’t expected Willis to be so quick to jump on the idea. While Michelle did want to learn how to drive the horse and buggy, she wasn’t sure she was ready.

  “All right then, hop in the driver’s side and take up the reins. I’ll release the horse from the hitching post and get in the passenger’s side.” Apparently Willis thought she was ready.

  Michelle’s anxiety escalated, and she rubbed her damp palms along the sides of her jeans. “We’re not going out on the road, are we?”

  “Not yet. It’s best if you work up to that. For today, we’ll just drive around the place.” Willis gestured to the open area on the other side of the barn. “It will help you get a feel for it. Sound good?”

  Michelle hesitated a minute, before nodding. “Okay. Guess it shouldn’t be too hard.”

  “Go ahead and get in.” Willis opened the door on the right side of the buggy and instructed Michelle to take up the reins. Then he went around front to release Bashful from the rail.

  It felt strange, sitting in what would be the passenger’s side in a car, and even weirder not to have a steering wheel to control where the vehicle went.

  Michelle’s throat felt so dry she could barely swallow as she gripped the reins hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

  Bashful’s head bobbed up and down in a quick motion, and she snorted and pawed at the ground.

  “Whoa girl, easy does it. I’m new at this, so give me a chance.”

  Michelle moistened her parched lips and cleared her throat, hoping to prepare herself for what was to come. I can do this. Willis will explain everything, and it’s gonna be fine.

  After Willis released the horse, he came over to the passenger’s side and opened the door. He put one leg in the buggy, but before he could get all the way in, the horse backed up, and the buggy gave a lurch. The next thing Michelle knew, Willis was on the ground, and she was at Bashful’s mercy.

  Chapter 14

  Whoa! Whoa!” Michelle’s hands shook so badly that she could hardly hold onto the reins. Poor Willis lay on the ground, while Bashful’s hooves practically flew over the gravel as she jerked the carriage and headed in the direction of the driveway. No matter how many times she said
, “Whoa!” or pulled back on the reins, Willis’s stubborn horse ignored her commands.

  A few seconds later, Michelle caught sight of Mary Ruth running out the back door. Waving her arms, she shouted, “Whoa, Bashful. Whoa now, girl.”

  To Michelle’s amazement, the horse slowed to a stop. Mary Ruth caught hold of Bashful’s bridle and led her back to the hitching rail.

  As soon as the horse was secured, Michelle jumped down from the buggy and raced over to Willis, who’d managed to get to his feet. “Are you okay?” she panted, taking in several ragged breaths.

  “Don’t think anything’s broken, but I fell on my arm, and it hurts like the dickens.” Willis held it protectively against his chest.

  Before Michelle could respond, Mary Ruth rushed over to them. “Ach, Willis, what happened?”

  “I was gonna give Sara a driving lesson,” Willis explained, “but before I could get in the buggy, Bashful backed up, and I fell.”

  Mary Ruth took a few deep breaths, as though trying to calm herself. “Better let me take a look at your aarem. It could very well be verbroche.”

  “I’m sure my arm is fine.” He shook his head forcefully. “I don’t have time for a broken arm. I’ve gotta take care of the hogs, not to mention all the other chores around here that need doin’.”

  Mary Ruth’s hands went straight to her hips. “I’m going to the phone shed and call one of our drivers. You need to be looked at, just in case.”

  Willis held out his arm, wincing when he moved it around. “Don’t think I could do this if it was broken.”

  Her forehead wrinkled as she turned to face Michelle. “Would you help me talk some sense into this stubborn man?”

  Michelle wasn’t sure if anything she said would make a difference, but at least she could try. “Grandpa, I think maybe Grandma is right. It would be a good idea to at least go to the clinic and have your arm checked out.”

  His face relaxed a bit as he slowly nodded. “I can see I’m outnumbered here, so okay, I’ll go.”